


Death of a Bachelor

by allihearisradiogaga



Category: Captain Marvel (Marvel Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Spider-Woman (Comic), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 20's lounge singer au, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, F/F, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, carol is a mob boss's girlfriend, jessica is a lounge singer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6193279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allihearisradiogaga/pseuds/allihearisradiogaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessica Drew is a lounge singer in the Quiet Room.  Carol Danvers is girlfriend to the biggest bootlegger in New York.  Every night, Jessica performs for the Quiet Room's patrons, Carol at the table right in front.  On the first night, they lock eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue Velvet

**Author's Note:**

> Every chapter in this fic will be based on a different song.
> 
> This one is based on Lana Del Rey's version of "Blue Velvet": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H0gr2abrE64

 

Jessica ran her hand up and down the edge of the curtain as she peeked from the tiny backstage area in the smoky club, and saw that it was almost full.  The velvet of the black curtain was a smooth, soothing feeling mostly there to contrast with her nerves.  She’d never performed here before, and she had heard that the regulars of the Quiet Room were very _particular_ about their tastes.  She needed this job, as legally questionable as it was, and she’d been told before she had the voice for a lounge.

What she was afraid of was Big Tony Stark.  She wasn’t alone in this fear—he was the feat of most of New York.  He was the bootlegger the Police couldn’t even _touch_ , half because he bought them off and half because he wasn’t the kind of guy who you crossed.

He was also the most famous of the Quiet Room’s regular patrons.  There was one table near the front of the room that was always reserved for him without any prior notice, without any spoken command.  That was _his_ place, and there wasn’t a soul who dared to usurp him.

A man in a tuxedo shirt and a bow tie placed a hand on her bare shoulder and she nearly jumped.  “Ms. Drew?” he whispered, “it’s nine o’clock.”  Before she could even reply, the man had hurried off, probably to bring someone another drink.  That was, after all, the main point of the lounge.  She took a final breath and pushed her cheeks back into a smile, her red lips shining in the lights as she stepped out onto the small stage, the band moving quietly to their instruments behind her.  Jessica found that she could see much more of the audience than she thought she would have been able to, the lights not finding her eyes with the glare she’d feared.

The tables were almost all full of people in suits and dressed, almost every one of them with a drink in hand.  It was mostly hard liquor here in the Quiet Room, because it gave the place an air of sophistication, and the people who frequented it were always looking for a way to look more the fashion of the day.  One of the tables was very conspicuously empty, and that was the one directly in front of the mic, with its candle centerpiece lit, the sole piece on the table, waiting for companions.  Jessica’s heart lifted a little bit and she leaned forward to the mic, conscious of the way this highlighted certain assets to the audience.  She had a good voice, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to, on the first night, do what she could to make a good first impression.

“Good evening to you all,” she breathed softly, taking in the way her voice was amplified through the room.  “My name is Jessica Drew, and I’m _so_ glad to be here with you all tonight.”  The place, almost true to its name, quieted as she spoke, the only voices mere murmurs.  Her light accent tugged at the vowels as she continued: “I hope you will enjoy what we’ve got for you all tonight.”  She stepped back and nodded to the drummer, who began a beat that the rest of the band easily picked up on.

Jessica closed her eyes, taking in the warm sound of the band behind her, and stepped up to the microphone again, her fingers lacing around it as she began to sing.  “She wore _blue_ —velvet…”  She tilted her head softly, her hair tumbling down in long waves.  “…bluer than velvet was the night…”

She could feel a dull warmth on her face from the lights.  She moved her body gently back and forth with the music.  “Softer than satin was the light…”  She turned her cheeks upward and opened her eyes as she turned back downward “…of the _stars_ …”  The door near the back of the club opened, and a pair entered.  Jessica could feel her heart jump, realizing that they were moving forward, straight toward the unofficially reserved table.  She moved into the second verse: “She wore _blue_ velvet…”  There he was—it was the famed Tony Stark, fear of New York, and he was moving right toward where _she_ was singing.  She felt a tightening in her chest.

“Bluer than velvet were her…”  Jessica almost lost the song there, because she had caught a glimpse of the tall blonde beauty on Tony Stark’s arm.  Towering over him in a dazzling black-and-yellow dress, she almost radiated light.  She had a sly half-smile, as if knowing that she was the most beautiful creature in the room.  She turned to Jessica for the briefest moment, as Jessica finished the line: “…eyes.”  She blinked with a nod at Jessica and turned back to Tony, who was chatting boisterously with someone at a nearby table.

Jessica wondered for a brief moment if there was red coming to her cheeks, and whether it would accent her dress or if it would make her look nervous.  “Warmer than May her tender sighs…”  She slid her hand down the microphone stand, her eyes flitting from the beautiful woman and around the room, so she would seem to be staring.  “Love was _ours_ …”

The music swelled from the band, and Jessica let herself gyrate slowly to the music, closing her eyes as she did.  She was keenly aware of the mob boss as he came to his seat in front of her, and just as aware of the blonde beauty who accompanied him.  The two of them, they intimated _power_ , and they were watching her.  She launched into the refrain.

“ _Ours_ a love I held tightly, feeling the rapture _grow_ …”  She forced her eyes away from her most prominent audience members and surveyed the rest of the tables.  They were full of people in various states of inebriation, in various states of attention to her song.  That was okay; that was what she had expected when she had accepted this job.  She had gotten into it for the paycheck, not for the attention.

“Like a _flame_ burning brightly, but when she left, gone was the glow _of_ …”  She swayed a bit more, shaking her hips back and forth a bit.  The people there in the Quiet Room might like that—just enough sex appeal to keep them interested, and not enough for them to peg her for a harlot on the first day.  Some of the men here, they could—she knew they had a reputation, once they’d gotten some of that liquor into them.  That’s why it’d been outlawed in the first place, right?

“ _Blue_ velvet…”  Her eyes, opened again, made their way back to the table front and center, right in front of her.  Specifically, they reached the eyes that matched the color she was crooning, and she felt something of a shock through her body, an uncontrollable shiver.  She almost missed the next note, and it took her a moment to tear her eyes from the other woman.  “But in my heart there’ll always be precious and warm a _memory_ , through the years…”

She rolled her eyes upward, just above the lights, as if it were an orchestrated part of the performance.  The band swelled for the final line, and she felt a warmth—of the music, the lights, and the eyes on her.  “And I can see blue velvet through my tears.”  The music behind her played it out, and she gave a small smile to the audience, red in her cheeks.  “Thank you,” she breathed, and a small spattering of applause answered her.  Both Big Tony and his consort were among those in providing the accolades.

Jessica turned back to the band to signal that they could count in the next song.

* * *

 

Jessica felt the back of her high heels digging into her Achilles tendon and as soon as she exited the stage, she began to make her way toward the back room that was working as a dressing room for her.  Before she had made it halfway down the back hallway, however, Ms. Amaquelin caught her by the arm and led her back into the Quiet Room’s main room.  “Blackagar was asking for you, Ms. Drew,” she said as she led her into the less-than-full bar.  Many of the patrons had left just after her set, realizing how late it was getting.  About half of them, though, lingered to finish their drinks.

She led Jessica to the bar, where a large, stately man stood washing glasses—her employer, Mr. Boltagon.  “Good evening, sir,” she said, with a small nod of respect.  Rather than responding, he simply nodded toward the couple standing down at the end of the bar and looked back to the work he was doing, finishing the glass, placing it on the shelf, and grabbing another.  Ms. Amaquelin led Jessica down to the other couple.

“Good evening,” she said as they approached.  The man turned around to see them, and a large grin spread from between two parts of his goatee.

“Medusalith,” he said, opening his arms to her.  She gave him a brief embrace, accepting and returning a greeting in the French way, a peck on each cheek.  Once they finished, Mr. Stark gestured to the woman standing with him.  “I would like to introduce you to my companion this evening.  Medusalith Amaquelin, this is Carol Danvers.”

The blonde leaned forward, her teeth dazzling in a perfect smile.  She reached a hand out and shook the hostess’s.  “I’m charmed.”

“And _this_ ,” said Medusalith, turning to Jessica, “is Jessica Drew, whom I’m sure you know, after she graced our stage tonight.  She’s the Quiet Room’s newest musician-in-residence.”

“Graced we _were_ ,” said Mr. Stark, taking Jessica’s hand and placing a kiss on the back of it.  Jessica grinned to him.  “Your voice is something else,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, understanding what weight came with that compliment.  “And it is an honor to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“I see my reputation precedes me,” said Big Tony, straightening up as he did, beaming.

“And I _must_ say,” said Ms. Danvers, reaching for Jessica’s hand, “I, too, was _dazzled_.”  Jessica offered her hand and they shook.  Carol’s handshake was firm, but tender at the same time—assertive enough but still aware of the other’s hand, not wanting to crush it.  Jessica didn’t like that she had to let go.

“I am glad you liked my performance,” said Jessica.  She forced herself to take her eyes from Ms. Danvers’s, and to address the rest of those assembled.  “I must admit, I was a tad nervous for my first night here.”  She looked to Medusalith, and back to the two guests.  “The Quiet Room carries a bit of a powerful reputation.”

“One you’ve lived up to,” said Mr. Stark, grinning.  He pulled a cigar from his jacket pocket.  “Ms. Amaquelin, do you mind?”

“Not at all, Mr. Stark,” she replied, and, as if to punctuate the point, offered him a match from a matchbook in her small clutch bag.  He lit his cigar and puffed a few times to get it going.

“Thank you,” he said.  He tuned to Jessica.  “I have to say, I am more than impressed.  And I’m glad you’re here—the while without a singer left this place a little too…  Well, a little too _quiet_ , if you’ll pardon the pun.”

Medusalith and Jessica gave a small, polite laugh in response to this.  Carol spoke, however: “I, for one, look forward to hearing you sing again, Ms. Drew.”  She let her eyes drop _ever-so-briefly_ , surveying Jessica, but Jessica caught it.  She almost reddened.  “We _will_ be in for more.”  She tugged slightly on Big Tony’s sleeve as she said this, and he gave her a nod as he blew out some smoke from his cigar.

“Thank you,” said Jessica, and she caught herself staring at the yellow sash that accented Carol’s dress, and forced her eyes upward, only to catch Carol’s.  They were _piercing_ , and Jessica felt weak in her legs just from _seeing_ her—and it was not just the rapidly forming blisters on the back of her heels.  “I—I very appreciate…”  She cleared her throat.  “That means a lot, coming from you.”

Carol grinned, giggling slightly, and turned to Mr. Stark.  “Tony,” she said, “it’s getting late—I think it’d be best if you took that cigar _to go_.  They’re trying to shut up around here.”

Tony fumbled for his watch for a moment, cigar still between his fingers, but then decided that it was too much work, and shrugged.  “You’re right,” he said, and patted her hand on his arm.  “We’d best be going.  I’m sure Jarvis has the car ready.”

“Thank you for your patronage,” said Ms. Amaquelin.  “We _always_ appreciate it when you stop by the Room.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” said Big Tony.  He gave Jessica a nod as he led Ms. Danvers out with him, past the bar to the doors.  As they went, Carol turned back, and her eyes locked with Jessica’s, and closed with _some_ sort of message to her—pleasure, or amicability, or desire—and followed her date out the doors.  Jessica stared at the spot where she had been after the doors had closed for a moment afterward, imagining that last look, and the last flash of golden hair, before she had gone.  She had _touched_ her; she had _spoken_ to Ms. Carol Danvers, perhaps an angel on earth, with the eyes the color of blue velvet.  Her heart sped a bit as she thought of her, even now, after she’d gone.

She was pulled back into reality only when Medusalith spoke to her.  “…your payment.”  Jessica turned to see Ms. Amaquelin holding an envelope out to her.  She took it and slipped it beneath the neckline of her dress.

“Thank you,” she said.  “And thank you again for this opportunity.”

Medusalith smiled.  “It seems that you were well received on your first night,” she said.  “And Boltagon did not make a mistake in choosing you.  For such a quiet man, he has quite the ear.”  She paused.  “We will be expecting you tomorrow night.”

“I look forward to it,” said Jessica.  “Thank you.”

She watched as Ms. Amaquelin walked away, and knew that more than the performance, what she _really_ looked forward to was seeing Ms. Danvers again, there in the front row.  _That_ would make this gig all worthwhile.


	2. Fuck Me Pumps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based off of Amy Winehouse's "Fuck Me Pumps" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iVaqQe3V498

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, to a lesser extent, this chapter is based off of Lady Gaga's version of "Orange Colored Sky" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7ozT9nPWps

Jessica found that she actually liked the spotlight.  Her voice hadn’t gotten the better of her yet and she’d had a good first week.  The crowd had been entertained, and—though he never said it aloud, just standing stoic as ever—Medusalith insisted that Mr. Boltagon was impressed with her work.

The most important part for Jessica, however, was the frequent presence of Big Tony Stark, and by extension, Ms. Carol Danvers.  Jessica wasn’t sure how she continued to sing when she came, because every time she saw her, it took her breath away.  She found herself singing _toward_ Carol if there was a particularly romantic song in her set list, and had to force herself not to, to cut it back.  Whatever her feelings, Big Tony was still there, and he presented a potential for bad news, if anyone were to try to step in on his girl.

Jessica also looked forward to _after_ her performances, when sometimes Danvers and Stark would loiter afterward for a drink.  Once, Jessica joined them at Tony’s request.

“You’ve got a hell of a set of pipes on you,” he said, sipping from his glass of bourbon.  “It’s always like hearing a cello playing, so _smooth_ …”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” said Jessica, her finger tracing the base of the glass in front of her.

“You _must_ tell me where you got that dress,” said Carol, staring at Jessica’s frame.  “It fits you so well.”

“I’ll get you a card from my seamstress,” offered Jessica.  She felt a heat in her cheeks and hoped she wasn’t blushing.  _Carol_ had complimented her figure, and it made her feel like a giddy child.  She brushed her hair back from her eyes.  As she did, one of the waiters in the tuxedo shirts came up to Tony and tapped him on the shoulder.  Tony leaned back to listen to what the boy whispered into his ear, and nodded.  The waiter left them, barely affording a glance to the two women, and Big Tony leaned forward again.

“I’m afraid duty calls,” he said, clutching his drink in hand.  “There’s been some trouble just northwest of Midtown.”  He drained the rest of his drink in one gulp, letting the two ice cubes clink back to the bottom of the empty glass when it met contact with the table.  “I’m sorry, Ms. Drew, but I’m afraid we must be off.”

“Actually, Tony,” said Carol, placing her hand on his coat sleeve as he started to put it on.  “You go on ahead—I’m not very interested in your business, anyway, you know that.”  She released his arm and he finished pulling on his jacket.  “you go on ahead, and I’ll call for another car.”  She gestured to the table.  “I’ve not yet finished my drink.”

Tony’s eyes went from the drink, to Carol, Jessica, and back to Carol.  His eyes narrowed a bit before softening again.  “Of course,” he said, “but of a shame to waste your drink…”

He left it there, backing out of the table and heading toward the door.  Both of the women watched him go.

Then, they were left together in silence.  Jessica looked to Carol’s shoulder, and quickly took a sip of the wine in front of her.  Carol, half-amused, cracked a smile and took a sip of her vodka tonic.

“So,” said Carol, stirring her drink with its small straw absentmindedly.  “Tell me about the magical and charmed life of a lounge singer.  Is it just the same as they show in the pictures?”

Jessica raised an eyebrow.  “Like the pictures?  Perhaps not as glamorous, I’m afraid.”

“I wish I could be disappointed,” said Carol.  “But that makes you seem much more human, not a set piece from a romance film.”

Jessica widened her eyes, and tried to not make it as obvious as it was.  _She_ was the inhumanly one?  Hardly.  “And you, though,” she said, “you live the charmed life, don’t you?  First lady of an empire?”  Her thoughts went to Big Tony, who had still so recently vacated the third seat at their table.

Carol’s face was set, much less amicable than it had been before.  “ _Big_ Tony?” she asked.  She half-rolled her eyes.  “Between us, he’s not all that.”

“What?”

“He’s sincere, I suppose,” said Carol, “but I’ll give you one guess as to who came up with the ‘Big Tony’ nickname.”

Jessica had to try to stifle a laugh at _that_ , and Carol’s set face cracked after a moment as well.  They laughed for a bit, and Jessica breathed the final sigh of the laugh and took a sip of her wine.  “I’m sorry for laughing,” she said, “but the implications of what you just said…”

“I know, it’s alright, Jessica—it’s okay if I call you by your first name, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” said Jessica, her heart leaping.  “Carol.”

Carol grinned.  She took a sip of her drink and sat back in her chair.  “He really _does_ mean well, but he means well for _himself_ ,” she said.  “And I’m not sure how much he really cares about anyone else around him, truthfully…”  Her eyes went down.

“Surely, he cares about _you_?”  Jessica noted the expensive-looking necklace around Carol’s neck as evidence of this.

Carol saw her gaze, and put a hand to the lightning-bolt pendant.  “Oh, he does,” she said, “I suppose…”

Jessica couldn’t tell if Carol _really_ wanted to discuss her potential relationship problems.  She shifted in her chair and spoke.  “So Carol, is it that you do while it’s light out?”

To this, Carol grinned, and took a sip of her drink.  “Believe it or not,” she said, rolling the vodka tonic around in her glass, “I’m in government work.”

“Do they know about what company you keep?”

“I try to keep my work and private lives separate,” said Carol.

Jessica turned her head, allowing her hair to tumble downward like a waterfall.  Her smile was coy.  “It’s a pity that I don’t.”  She felt her heart was a stone after that, freezing.  She shut her eyes, willing herself to be anywhere _but_ where she was currently.

Then, Carol laughed.  It was a light laugh, jovial, and when Jessica turned her head back to her companion at the table agonizingly slowly, she found a smile creeping out onto her face as well.

“Aren’t I lucky for that?” said Carol, her chest rising and falling in a bit more of a chuckle, under the dazzling lightning bolt.

“My job, at least, gives me access to the finer things,” said Jessica, raising her glass toward Carol as if to accentuate her point.

“And what do _you_ do during the city’s waking hours?” asked Carol.

“Me?” asked Jessica.  “I—I guess, I spend time reading, and exercising—”  She broke off, laughing a half-laugh.  She pushed some of her hair back over her shoulder.  “But I enjoy the feeling of pushing myself, you know?”

“I think I do,” said Carol.  “Do you work in a gym, or…?”

“A gym, yes,” said Jessica.  “I know someone—Mr. Barton, is his name—and he runs this place near my apartment.  He lets me in there, even though most public gymnasiums like that wouldn’t want a ‘broad’ like me.”

“That’s kind of him, then,” said Carol.  Jessica could be wrong, but was her gaze tracing down her arms?  There was a little definition there, but now Jessica felt over-conscious of them, and she wondered if she should have confessed to her pastime.  She crossed her wrists in her lap.

“It is,” agreed Jessica, and took a sip of her wine.  The two of them lapsed into a comfortable silence, the smoky atmosphere of the Quiet Room pervading.  The place had mostly emptied out at this point, but there were a few stragglers other than them, finishing their drinks.

“It’s good, being here with you,” said Carol.  “I mean, I’m happy; I’m comfortable around you.”  She gave a smile that was not exactly happy.  “It’s good, for a change.”

Jessica felt a warmth within her, and she hadn’t had enough wine for that to be the singular cause.  “I enjoy your company, as well.”

They moved on into pleasantries.  Their favorite foods—Jessica enjoyed hearty Italian foods and Carol enjoyed the lighter Mediterranean fare.  Their preference of pets—Carol enjoyed cats and Jessica preferred dogs, though neither _hated_ the other, they simply liked theirs a bit _more_.  This moved on into a discussion about how Jessica’s least favorite part of living in New York was the rats—she hated rats.  Carol laughed, and said she’d had her fair share of rodent traps set up, but she’d never shied away from disposing of them once they were caught.  Carol had then inquired about Jessica’s accent, and Jessica had explained about how her parents had died just after moving to America when she was very young, and the only thing she really remembered from England was her accent.  This made Carol laugh, and they found themselves again in a comfortable silence, most of the Quiet Room emptied around them.

Carol looked at her near-empty glass, where even the ice cubes had all but vacated the base, and sighed.  “I supposed I’d best use Tony’s credit to get a car home,” she said.  “After all, Mr. Boltagon _is_ going to want to close this place up at _some_ point tonight.”

“I would hate to keep you, then,” said Jessica, which felt like something of a lie.  Carol flitted her eyelids a bit.  “I would hate for you to keep ‘Big Tony’ waiting.”

“I doubt he’s realized I haven’t followed him yet,” said Carol, clutching her glass.

Jessica watched Carol’s eyes go down, in contrast the absolute, radiant beauty that came from the rest of her.  It wasn’t fitting for such a person to feel so down.  “Why do you follow him at all, then?” she asked.

Carol raised an eyebrow, and Jessica for a moment wondered if she had overstepped herself.  She had come close to Carol, but they were still _relatively_ new acquaintances, and she could have just pushed further into boundaries than she should have.  Then, she rebuked herself, reminding herself that she was just saying what needed to be said, for _Carol_.

“Well,” she said, fingers relaxing around the glass, “I suppose I do it for the thrill, really.  Something _exciting_.  I’ve always liked to _fly_.”

“But what if he’s not the excitement, really?” asked Jessica.  She felt herself becoming bolder, and wished that she wouldn’t—she might scare Carol off.  “What if he’s a tether, keeping you from taking off?”

“He’s not unkind,” said Carol, “if that’s what you’re worried about.  He just—he isn’t really anything at _all_.”  She reached across the table for Jessica’s hand, and she let her take it.  Her hands were soft, and strong.  “He takes me here because _I_ suggest it.  It’s nice, but were it up to him, we would have our drinks in, every night.  Were he the one to approach _me_ , well—he wouldn’t have bothered.”

“So why?” asked Jessica.  “Why do you keep on with it?  If he’s so apathetic when it comes to you?”  She squeezed Carol’s hand.  “You deserve more.”  She cut herself off before she offered herself up.  That would be _too strong_ , and she knew that.

“Thank you, Jessica,” said Carol, giving her a smile.  She squeezed Jessica’s hand briefly before withdrawing her own and wrapping it back around her glass.  “I know it’s just me complaining, but…”  She trailed off.  Jessica didn’t interrupt her; she let her process what she needed to.  Carol drained the last of her drink and placed the glass back on the table.  “You said what needed to be said.”

Jessica’s heart lifted.  “I’m glad you think so,” said Jessica.  She swallowed, her right hand clutching the top of her thigh beneath the table.  She looked across the table at Carol, who did not look any better for the conversation they were having.  "I will see you tomorrow night, yes?"

"If not tomorrow, then the next night after," said Carol, using a sad smile to make up for the heavy conversation.  "And I'll look forward to hearing _you_ as always."  She stood and smiled at Jessica one last time before departing to the bar to use the telephone there to call for a car.  The car would be under Tony's name, of course, and she would be going home to Mr. Stark.

However, Jessica did not know how long home would be _with_ Mr. Stark for Carol.

* * *

 

Jessica was slightly more nervous for this night’s performance than she usually was, because Carol and Mr. Stark hadn’t come in the night before, and Carol had said—Carol had _promised_ —that they would be in again soon.  She felt something in the pit of her stomach, and she tried to ignore it.  She peeked out from behind the curtains and realized, looking at the assembled patrons of the Quiet Room, that she was not looking forward to see the pair of them, but to see just _Carol_ , specifically Carol _alone_.  After their talk the few days earlier, it seemed to Jessica a wild stretch for the two of them to still be going steady.

So if she looked out and saw Carol _alone_ —and of course, it would be Carol, because by her own admission Mr. Stark wouldn’t take the initiative to go out on her own—that would mean that she had found herself free of him, and she was _open_ to…

She was open to live her life as a freer woman.  Jessica had to remind herself of that.  She wasn’t going to run straight from Tony’s arms into hers.  She was a person, with emotions of her own, and all of her decisions had to be made by _her_.  But Jessica would be there for her, in either case.

She felt a tap on her shoulder from one of the waiters.  “It’s nine o’clock,” he said to her, and she nodded.  She looked to the band, and they flashed her a smile.  She led the way onto the small stage.  Jessica saddled up to the microphone, looking out from under smoky lids at those gathered around her.  She cracked a smile.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to the Quiet Room.  My name is Jessica Drew, and it is my _distinct_ pleasure to be here with you tonight.”  As she said this, she saw the door to the bar open.  In through the door walked Carol Danvers, and for a moment, Jessica forgot that she was supposed to be breathing.  She began to turn to her band, to tell them they’d be starting with “Orange Colored Sky,” which she thought would give the perfect amount of pep to Carol’s mood.  Then, she saw Big Tony come in the door immediately after her.  Carol allowed him to slip his arm around her waist, and even leaned back into his shoulder, laughing at something that he had said.

Jessica was staring at them, and she realized that she hadn’t said anything for a moment, leaving an awkward silence for the people assembled in the lounge.  She cleared her throat.  “Excuse me,” she said.  “Like I said, welcome to the Quiet Room.”  She watched as Carol and Mr. Stark, never breaking contact with each other—hands held, arm around waist, her _leaning_ on him…

Jessica didn’t even bother to signal to her band.  She just began to sing, and she could feel her anger flowing through her voice.  “When you walk in the _bar_ , you’re dressed like a star…”  The band caught up with her, a light beat with small strums from the string instruments.  The horns simply sat back in their seats and let her sing.  “…rocking your ‘ _eff me’ pumps_.”

Carol looked up to Jessica, still hanging onto Big Tony, as the pair of them approached their table, right in front of the microphone.  Jessica thought she could see something hurt there, in her big blue eyes, and the first thought that came to her head was something along the lines of “G _ood—the message is sinking in_.”

“With your Gucci bag crew, can’t tell who he’s looking to.”  She closed her eyes for a moment, and envisioned what it would be like if Carol _had_ left Big Tony at home.  Sure, he would have been upset, but what could he do about it?  She was in government work, she had said that, and there was nothing that he could do to her that wouldn’t draw suspicion upon him at the same time.  If he went forward, telling her superiors that she had been going along with him, that would not be incriminating unless they had something solid on him, and he wouldn’t want that to happen.  She would be _safe_ , relatively.  So _why_ , after what they’d talked about, would she stay with the man?

“’Cause you all look the same, everyone knows your _name_ , and that’s your whole _claim_ to fame...”  What she was doing was _petty_ , yes, but it got the point across.  Carol held her glass in her hand beneath white knuckles, and Jessica wondered if she was about to shatter the whole thing.  “Never miss a night, ‘cause your dream in life, is to be a _footballer’_ s wife.”

At the last moment, Jessica had to stop herself from saying “bootlegger” instead of “footballer,” and wondered to herself why she held back.  Probably because beneath all of this pettiness, she still did care about Carol.  She just didn’t care _enough_ to stop this musical assault on her character.

“You don’t like _players_ , that’s what you say…”  Jessica made eye contact with Carol now, and Carol looked as angry as she was mortified.  Jessica payed no mind to this, raising her eyebrow as she continued: “…but you _really_ wouldn’t mind a millionaire.”  She backed up, leaning the mic with her, as she danced around a bit with her shoulders.  “You don’t like ballers—they don’t do nothing for you, but you’d love a _rich man_ six foot two or taller.”  She winked back to the players in her band, and the bass player bobbed his head along with the song a little bit.  They were enjoying this, not understanding the implications.  Jessica half-twirled around the microphone, facing the club again.

“In the morning you’re vexed, he’s on to the next…”  She bopped her hips back and forth a bit, eliciting a “ _woo!”_ from the men in the crowd.  “…and you didn’t even get no _taste_.”

Carol audibly sighed at her front table, and drained the rest of her drink, waving to the waiter for more.  Next to her, Big Tony was enjoying the show, nodding along with the song.

“Don’t get too upset if they call you a _skank_ …”  Her eyes caught Carol’s again, and Carol’s narrowed.  Jessica kept the gaze, not allowing herself to be intimidated by the other woman.  “…’cause like the news, every day you get _pressed_.”

Carol stood in her place abruptly, tearing her eyes away from Jessica’s.  Jessica wasn’t sure, but there may have been tears in her eyes.  In that moment, Jessica didn’t particularly _care_.  They had talked, and they had come to a realization, and she hadn’t done it—she had come back to the bar with _Big Tony_ , as affectionate as _ever_.  She was leaving, though—and Jessica wanted to get in her last few jabs.  She skipped forward a few verses.

“Don’t be _mad_ at me, ‘cause you’re pushing thirty, and your old tricks no longer work.”  Carol was almost at the door now, and Jessica could see her bright blonde hair through the crowd, like a beacon.  She aimed her anger directly at her, through the microphone.  “You should have _known_ from the jump that you always get dumped…”  Carol was at the door now, and she turned back to Jessica, her eyes wounded.  Mr. Stark for the first time seemed to realized that his girlfriend was no longer by his side, and looked around for her.  Jessica looked directly at Carol as she grasped the door handle, tilting the microphone to one side as she sang.

“So dust off your _‘fuck me’ pumps_.”

Jessica released the microphone as the band played the final note, and it wobbled back and forth to equilibrium as Carol left the bar, slamming the door behind her.  Jessica watched the place where she had left as the light applause customary for the place came to her ears, and her smile slowly faded into a flat line, her red lips pressed together.  Mr. Stark had gotten up from his seat, searching out his companion, and Jessica realized what she had done.  She turned from the audience to face the band, and held back a tear.  After all, she still had the rest of the set.

When she turned back to face the crowd, she could swear she saw Ms. Amaquelin frowning from the side of the stage, but she focused on her job, a smile back on her face even though she felt as if her heart were in her stomach.  “Thank you all so much,” she said, watching as Big Tony Stark worked his way through the crowd toward the exit.  “And I think you’ll like this next one.”  Her smile almost faltered when she signaled to the band and they began to play “Orange Colored Sky.”  She had _hurt_ Carol.  Not for any real reason, but because she had been petty.

“I was walking along, minding my business, when out of an _orange_ colored sky…”  She swallowed her shame and tried to get into the peppier song, but it didn’t have the same shine it would have, were she singing it for Carol, as she’d initially planned.  “ _Flash!  Bam!  Alakazam!_ Wonderful _you_ came by…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the angst. More to come.


End file.
